


Just Leave Me

by Avanalae



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, So much angst, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanalae/pseuds/Avanalae
Summary: Tim gets turned into a cat. But not all is well with this world. Neglected and depressed, Tim decides to stay in that form forever.





	1. And So It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted August 2012.

Tim sighs deeply, sprawled on his side.

Why do these things happen to him?

He stares at his small paws, at the deep black fur that he knows covers his body.  He twitches his tail, seeing the long slender thing from the corner of his eye. At least he kind of looked like himself in this form.

Black fur, blue eyes, slender form…

And small.

He’s not a kitten, but he nearly looks like one for his size.

His tail twitches again – this time in annoyance.

Tim hasn’t been a cat for very long, just about a day. It took him a while to get back to his apartment after the fight with a new criminal. He can’t even remember the guy’s name. But considering his situation, he cuts himself some slack.

Luckily for him, he’s good at planning so there’s food and such that he can access in this form with little problem. Getting to his cave, however, requires him to dip I the fish tank and he may or may not be blatantly putting it off as long as he can.

Tim sighs again.

_

He takes a few turns in front of the mirror, examining his form more thoroughly. A black Bombay. A fine cat. He bobs his head in approval. This at least appeals to his pride.

It’s odd, admiring himself in the mirror like this. He’s never done it before. Not unless he was stitching himself up in an awkward place. But even then he tried not to look at himself too much.

Now there are no scars to see. No mars or blemishes or features that remind him too much of his mother. No way to be reminded of all the times he made a mistake. When he failed or slipped.

He’ll never forget, of course, but at least he won’t be reminded every time he sees a sliver of skin.

Shaking that thought from his mind, he seeks out something to eat before he tries to work.

_

Tim.

Tim is tired.

It’s been 13 days.

14 hours.

23 minutes.

Since he came home as a cat.

He’s curled up on his couch currently, feeling many things. But the most prominent of them is apathy. No one has called, checked in, or shown enough concern to at least inquire after Tim.

He’s not surprised. They never did when he was human.

The only one he’d talked to at least recently was Alfred.  It was one of those obligatory calls where you call him willingly or he invades your house and makes you stop working to catch up with him and stuff you with food.

At least, that’s how it’d been with Tim.

But that call had only been, well, 2 weeks ago now. So he won’t be expecting anything for another two weeks. He can’t wait that long. He’s running low on things he can manage to eat as a cat and it’s too difficult to use a computer, let alone his sources, as a cat.

He’s run through all the options, and the best one is going to Wayne manor.

…Unfortunately.

_

It takes him much too long to get to the manor. Nearly a whole day when it’s a two hour walk or a 45 minute drive away. He’d even been sticking to the rooftops. But finding his way around in this form was so much harder.

He sighed in relief when the manor came into sight. All lights were off, which is understandable as it is 5 am on a Thursday. Apparently the schedule hadn’t changed and everyone had come home to sleep by now.

Tim stumbles through the garden, making his way towards the kitchen window, wishing that perhaps Alfred is having some tea before bed or something. He jumps onto the window sill, mewing in distress when there’s no one there. He can’t open the windows, and there aren’t any secret entrances he can access in this form.

It’s cold, he’s starving, and he’s exhausted.

The soil underneath the window makes a comfortable enough bed and the bushes make suitable cover.  Tim curls up and passes out quickly.

_

Alfred is surprised when he goes out to check around the house later that morning to find a cat sleeping under one of the kitchen windows. It seems to be an adult, but it’s smaller than the average. He kneels down and pushes some of the bushes aside so he can see it better. Its fur is matted and dirty, making it obvious the poor thing had been through a lot.

The elderly butler gently prods the creature, picking it up gently when he gets no response. It… Hm. Alfred adjusts his hold a bit. _He_ must be exhausted.

_

Tim wakes up warm and content.

Well, aside from his stomach.

He opens his eyes and sees blue. He’s curled up in a padded box or something, covered in a soft blue blanket. He feels so comfortable and he doesn’t want to move, but his stomach protests angrily. He peeks over the top of the box and sees Alfred cooking. He must be on the kitchen table, then.

Alfred looks over at that moment, “Ah, I see you’re awake.” The man comes over armed with a small dish, which he places in the box in front of him. Tim moves his aching body enough to reach it, mentally smiling at the Alfred-made cat meal. It’s so good to have Alfred’s food again, even if it is as a cat.

“Is he awake? Is he?” There’s the sound of someone bounding into the room in a manner that could only be Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard. Do be careful though. He’s still rather weak.” Alfred resumes his cooking while Dick skips over to the box.

“Hey kitty,” Dick grins, “You remind me of someone…”

Alfred sighs, knowing the inevitable.

“I’m gonna call you Salem!”

Tim nearly chokes on his food, memories of Dick forcing Tim to watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch with him coming to his mind. And of course Dick would name an animal after another animal in a TV show.

“Master Richard, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Aw, come on Alfie. I bet Bruce won’t be able to resist his adorable face,” he coos that last bit at Tim.

Alfred hums, not ready to agree or disagree.

“Come on. We all know you’ve wanted a cat for forever. He could be yours and he and I’m pretty sure the only person who would possibly protest would be Bruce. Come ooon!” Dick pleads and whines and makes some valid and some not so valid points.

Tim’s not sure how to feel about this, though. He’s not a pet. He’s not even a real cat.

He nudges the bowl away with his nose.

But he supposes that until he gets them to realize who he is, it’s going to be this way. And actually, he wonders what it’d be like as a house pet. Alfred’s no less. Besides, he still needs to recover.

Eventually the man gives in and agrees to help Dick convince Bruce. The two of them go off together, leaving Tim alone.

…For a bit.

It’s not too long before Tim hears nearly silent footsteps pad into the room.

A shadow comes over his eyes and he looks up to see Damian staring intently at him. Tim doesn’t move and manages to stay relaxed. Several minutes pass before Damian finally moves. Tim expects the worst and can’t help but flinch a bit when small fingers rest atop his head.

But the demon freezes, not moving his hand and allowing Tim to calm down. And when he finally does relax, the fingers slowly start scratching him. They move soothingly, soon finding just the right spots to make Tim melt.

It’s so odd that something like this could feel so wonderful. Perhaps it was the lack of touch as a human or maybe such things were amplified in this form.

He doesn’t know and perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Time seems to pass in a blink and the next thing he knows, the hand is suddenly gone and more people are coming into the room. He sighs unhappily but doesn’t move. He’s just so relaxed. More so than he remembers being in a long while.

There’s talking and moving and Tim should probably be paying attention but another hand has come to pet him and it’s amazing.

Until Dick squeals in glee and Tim nearly jumps out of his skin.

Damian starts chastising Dick for his annoying actions and Alfred strokes Tim to calm him down.

“Thank you Bruce!”

“Remember, though. If Titus doesn’t like him, he’s got to go.”

“I shall bring Titus here so they may meet.” Damian goes off to fetch the dog and Dick lifts Tim out of the box, holding him gently.

“Ready to meet our dog? Don’t worry, he’s a big scaredy-cat so you shouldn’t have any problems.”  Tim squirms a bit, trying to get comfortable, before he wriggles out of his arms and jumps onto the table. Dick pouts but doesn’t try to pick him up again.

Damian comes in with Titus and leads the huge Dane towards the table. Tim looks down at him from the edge of the table and Titus looks up from where he’s sitting. Moments pass until suddenly Titus leaps up and licks Tim. His huge tongue slathers the entire front of the poor cat.

There’s silence and Tim sits, stunned.

Then there’s a full-body shudder. He stands, hisses, and smacks Titus on the nose. Titus yelps and goes flat onto the floor, whining. Tim hisses at him a while longer, scolding him, and then turns away shaking, trying to get the dog slobber off him.

“I’d say Titus knows his place,” Damian speaks calmly.

“Indeed, Master Damian,” Alfred picks Tim up and carries him over to the sink, “I believe I shall give… Salem, a bath.”

Tim suddenly feels very uncomfortable, but he knows Alfred won’t hurt him and will be gentle and there’s no reason to be afraid, so he represses his instincts to the best of his abilities.

Well, perhaps this won’t be too bad.

Alfred puts him in the sink and Tim gulps.

He really, really hopes.


	2. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted October 2012.

It’s been a week.

Only 7 days.

So much had happened, and yet so little.

Tim has been sleeping a lot more. He’s found that he enjoys naps on the library windowsills.

He’s also been eating regularly. Alfred makes food for him, from different meats and vegetables and such. It’s very good to his cat tastes. As is the treat of cream when Alfred gives him some.

Everyone is remarkably affectionate towards him. Dick likes to play with him the most and has brought a new toy every day this week. He’s also the one who is most enthusiastic about petting and cuddling.

Bruce has to be the best at petting aside from Alfred, though. One day when Tim was walking by him in the library, Bruce patted his lap in an offering. Tim was hesitant at first, but curled up on the broad lap after some more coercion. He held a book with one hand and pet Tim with the other. Tim _swore_ the man had magic fingers.

That brought up unpleasant thoughts about Brucie, though, so he had pushed that thought down.

Alfred knew just where to scratch and pet him, and could somehow sense which one Tim needed at what time. It was odd.

Damian was remarkably pleasant towards him. He would sometimes give him a quick scratch behind the ears while passing by or a pet when Tim passed. It was awkward sometimes, but Tim felt himself warming up to the boy.

Titus was amusing and fun to play with sometimes. Though Tim disliked the few times the dog got overly excited and slobbered all over him.

He shudders just thinking about it.

In summary, this past week has shown him that his family is pretty happy. Especially with a cat in the house.

And without Tim Drake-Wayne.

_

Tim gives a little kitty-sigh and curls up in a tighter ball. His conclusion had made him more morose. Who wouldn’t be after they realized they were so easily forgotten?

But he wasn’t all that surprised.

It’s hard, adjusting, but Tim knows he can do it. He’s adaptable. He’s had to be since he was very young.

Titus comes up to him and nudges him with his nose. Tim wrinkles his own at the cold, wet touch, but stays still otherwise.

The ridiculous beast had become a rather good friend. There was the issue of language between them, but it was like they could easily understand each other anyway.

So Titus doesn’t prod him again and instead lies down next to him. He lets out a little woof and curls his body around Tim’s in a gesture of comfort.

It’s odd, how much comfort can come from such a simple gesture.

_

Cats can’t cry.

At least, that’s what Tim thought.

Cats do have tear ducts, after all. They can produce tears.

It’s just a bit different than crying as a human.

He rubs the back of his paws across his eyes. For the last time, he promises himself.

It’s been a hard week for him emotionally, but he came to a decision.

He’s not going back.

Neither to his former life.

Nor his former body.

Perhaps he won’t be as of much use to the people he loves in this form, but for once…

Just this once…

He’s going to be a little selfish.

_

It doesn’t take as long for Tim to make it to his apartment this time, which Tim is thankful for.

Once inside, he starts taking care of everything. He disposes of things to the best of his ability, stores and tucks things away, and shuts everything down. He sent an email to some of his contacts to sort out keeping the property there and shutting down power and water and such.

It takes longer than he thought for him to finish everything, and by the time he’s done it’s nearing 10 at night.

Tim hopes that Alfred and the others don’t worry too much.

He’s just too tired to go back now.

So he settles down on his couch, curling up there for the last time.

…And cries just a little more before falling asleep.

_

When Tim gets back to the mansion the next day, he is immediately confronted by a worried Alfred.

“Salem, there you are,” the man picks Tim up and carries him to the kitchen, “I am glad you returned safely. I must say, we were all worried about you.”

Once in the kitchen, Alfred sets him on the floor and gives him a look – one of those looks that says “move and you’ll regret it.” So Tim sits still and waits.

“I hope you don’t do that too often. I’m afraid it was extremely unpleasant having to calm Master Dick and explain to him the wandering nature of most cats.” Tim huffs a little laugh and Alfred looks down at him from what he’s doing and grins. “Perhaps we can let him stew a bit longer.”

The plate of food clinks against the tile and Tim immediately digs in. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until then.

Alfred pets him a few times and scratches him behind the ears.

All of it feels good. The food, the love, the worry… Everything.

He’s pretty sure he’s not going to regret his decision.


	3. Risks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted April 2014.

Things are going well.

Too well.

But Tim has gotten too comfortable in this new life and this doesn’t occur to him until it’s too late.

_

 

Titus is a surprisingly good companion, for a giant dog who’s afraid of bathtubs. The others aren’t around often, and he doesn’t want to be a bother to Alfred, so he often finds himself left with him.

And though he’s not the brightest bit in the toolbox, Tim’s almost sure that the beast knows he’s Tim. He always goes to his old room in the manor first when they are alone, and will listen to him just as he did when Tim was human.

Tim will have to remember this when he gets-

He shakes his small furry head. No, he’s not going to get cured.

And that’s okay.

It’s good, actually.

Titus nudges him with his muzzle and huffs lightly, successfully getting his attention.

Tim rests a paw on the dog’s nose.

Good boy, Titus. I’m fine.

_

They’re not sure how he made it down into the Batcave, but they seem to be willing enough to dismiss it as a “cat thing.”

He does make sure to watch his behavior very carefully when there, though. He doesn’t want to make them too curious, and appearing to be reading case files over their shoulders would definitely raise suspicions.

Usually he finds himself curled up near the mats, watching them train. He’ll even “comment” on occasion, depending on what happens.

But everyone is in costume at the moment. He’s not sure why, and he regrets not paying attention.

He _really_ regrets it when Zatanna and Clark show up and they start talking to Bruce – no, Batman – about an apparent problem they’ve been having. Tim doesn’t pay attention, suddenly more focused on what he knows of Zatanna.

She’s a magic user. She is perhaps the _best_ magic user in this universe – at the very least one of the few greatest ones. Not only that, but she is a direct blood descendent of a Homo Magi, and that opens a whole new can of worms.

“So can you help?”

“Of course, Batman. I’ll just need to scan around.” Zatanna smiles, “I promise not to touch anything unless necessary.”

Bruce nods.

Tim’s not sure why he doesn’t just leave, but upon later examination he begins to think that perhaps…

Perhaps he just wanted _someone_ to know.

He just wanted… Someone to understand what he’s going through. To know of his situation.

Zatanna wanders around, glaring speculatively at the cave walls. Clark and Bruce are talking by the monitors, and Dick is playing around on the pommel horse, talking to Damian who will often glance over at the woman wandering around.

She gets to the shelves Tim is curled up on and they make eye contact.

There’s a small gasp of confusion and her eyes widen.

He doesn’t hear words, but he feels like he’s getting the impressions of feelings from her. Surprise. Confusion. Concern.

She opens her mouth and in a sudden rush of terror, Tim jumps down closer to her and presses a paw to her chin, closing it again.

Their eyes stay connected and he tries his best to project his feelings – _don’t tell, please, it’s better this way, can’t you see how happy they are, please…_

_Please just leave me like this._

And time seems to come back in a disorientating shock.

“Zee?”

Zatanna obviously has trouble breaking eye contact, but she manages. Bruce is next to her, hand on her shoulder. The others are looking on, curious and a bit wary.

Tim fights the urge to hold his breath (Clark is there, he can’t risk it). She smiles shakily and turns back to Tim.

“Sorry about that. I was really surprised. I didn’t know you had a cat.” She pets him with an only slightly trembling hand.

Dick comes up to them suddenly, very obviously excited, “Yeah! Though he’s only a pretty recent addition. It’s only been a couple weeks.” The excitable man goes around the woman to pick him up. “His name is Salem!”

Zatanna allows herself a short burst of laughter, “Salem? Really?”

“The rest of us couldn’t be bothered to object to his idiocy,” Damian snarks.

Dick gives the ultimate sad face, pouting and holding Tim closer to himself, “Why are you so mean?”

Damian rolls his eyes and Tim struggles out of Dick’s grip, leaping up onto the highest shelf and thus out of reach.

He stares down at Zatanna and she stares up at him.

There is silence.

Agreement, but perhaps not acceptance.

_

Unsurprisingly, Tim had found a message from Zatanna requesting a meeting. It took until the last minute for him to decide to go.

She ends up managing a temporary spell that allows Tim to talk. It’s an odd feeling. But he explains how he was turned into a cat by some crazy villain (she asks to get the image from his mind and he hesitantly obliges).

He talks about how he went home and was there, alone, for ages. With no one visiting or seeming to check on him.

He talks about going to the manor, to check on the family. How they all seemed so content and perhaps even happy. How there was no mention of him aside from one time between Jason and Alfred.

He talks about pain, loneliness, and despair – about the desire to be loved and to be seen, even if not as himself.

“They see me now, Zat. They see me and perhaps even love me. They talk to me, play with me, and dote on me. I don’t have to worry about fighting, about risking my life for a cause I was being excluded from. I don’t have to fear or worry or wonder. I don’t have to struggle and bleed.

“If I stay like this, I know they’ll eventually forget about me, if they haven’t already. And I can just worry about them coming home each night, about them being well and staying together. I won’t have to worry about my own problems. Heck, I could probably even find a way to help them subtly if needed.”

Tim sighs and looks up at Zatanna, finally making eye-contact after having avoided it the entire conversation.

“I have been selfless my entire life, Zat. For my mother, father, friends, and eventually the whole super community. But I never… I didn’t get much in turn. After giving my everything, I received nothing. And this… This is my chance to be selfish.”

Zatanna shifts her position, looking desperate, but stays silent.

“…Can’t I just be selfish just this once? To just… live out the rest of my days and die at least a little loved? Even if it’s as a cat?”

After that, the magic user doesn’t say a word for a long while, and Tim allows her to hold him for that time.

_

Zatanna had promised not to tell, though she did get him to agree to an exception. Should something happen to him and the only choice feasible was to reveal it, she would.

He didn’t really have much of a choice, as he saw it. But hopefully such a situation would never arise.


End file.
